Sherlock: Fancy Dress
by IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: Mycroft Holmes doesn't attend fancy dress parties. But an opportunity to annoy his brother and his sudden boyfriend is too good a thing to miss. He doesn't count on DI Lestrade dressing... well, like THAT. See warnings inside.


SHERLOCK

FANCY DRESS

_**Mycroft Holmes doesn't attend fancy dress parties. But an opportunity to annoy his brother and his sudden boyfriend is too good an opportunity to miss. He doesn't count on DI Lestrade dressing like... well, like **_**that**_** . Rated M for swearing, alcohol and cigarette consumption and m/m sex.**_

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_

_**Characters: Mycroft Holmes, DI Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Sally Donovan, Anderson, Mike Stamford, Molly Hooper, Anthea, DI Dimmock, Mrs Hudson, Sarah Sawyer, Harry Watson, Clara and more.**_

_**Rating: Rated M for swearing, alcohol and cigarette consumption and m/m sex.**_

_**About: Just a little tale of John Watson throwing a fancy dress party and the mayhem that ensues.**_

_**Pairings: Mycroft/Lestrade, Sherlock/John, Sally/Anderson, Dimmock/Anthea, Harry/Clara**_

_**Ownership: Well of course I don't own it. Do you think I'd be writing fan fictions if I owned these fabulous characters? Original characters are owned by Arthur Conan Doyle, these versions are owned by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.**_

_**I live to entertain.**_

_**{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}**_

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><p>Mycroft Holmes didn't do fancy dress... well, unless you counted his usual attire as fancy, and most people did. The elder Holmes always looked dapper in a three piece suit with silk shirt and expensive tie. Even his shoes were brand new and looked as though they'd never been worn. A hair was never out of place and his pale skin always looked smooth and well-managed.<p>

But Mycroft Holmes did not dress up for anything apart from high class parties he had to go to with his assistant as his plus one. So, apart from the occasional tuxedo (that he always pulled off flawlessly), Mycroft Holmes did _not _dress up.

But an invitation to his brother's fancy dress party, courtesy of Dr John Watson, was too good an opportunity to miss. He knew Sherlock would have thrown a fit about having a party; Sherlock was not the type to socialise with many people at one time. But his relationship with John Watson had opened the sociopath up to new ideas. Most of these new ideas got them arrested for indecent exposure but it was good nonetheless; Sherlock was getting better.

And Mycroft Holmes couldn't deny that John Watson was good for his brother. So he put aside the uncomfortableness he felt at spending an entire evening in the company of people he had under surveillance and RSVP-d yes.

It was more a costume party than fancy dress, John Watson had texted, but costume party sounded stupid to him so he'd called it fancy dress.

Mycroft Holmes had no intention of dressing in anything other than his usual dapper and expensive suits. But he was curious to see what Sherlock and John would wear. Sherlock, because he was very good with costumes and always had you gaping, and John because... well, John Watson was a handsome man. But Mycroft would never admit to that. Sherlock would probably kill him.

So at six pm on Friday night, and not a minute earlier or later, Mycroft Holmes found himself at 221B and knocked with his umbrella. John answered and Mycroft couldn't help but smile. The doctor was dressed in his army fatigues, complete with a new military hair cut and mud spattered boots. He looked very handsome and Mycroft tried to keep himself from blushing; John Watson was taken, of course, and it wouldn't do well to show that Mycroft found the doctor somewhat attractive.

Mycroft felt Sherlock had something to do with the uniform as John said, 'Good evening, Mycroft.'

'Dr Watson,' Mycroft nodded and stepped in. He shed his dark blue coat and allowed John to take it to Sherlock's old bedroom. 'I hardly count donning your old fatigues as dressing up.'

'Yeah, but I couldn't think of anything and Sherlock...' he trailed off and blushed slightly. 'Erm, please, call me John,' he finished after clearing his throat.

'Very well, John,' Mycroft smiled back.

'Urgh, why'd you come?' Sherlock demanded and Mycroft turned.

He had to snort. Sherlock was dressed in a bobby uniform, complete with a plastic helmet atop his raven curls. He looked quite serious, apart from the smirk he was giving his brother. The uniform was well-fitting like everything Sherlock wore and Mycroft knew John wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off his boyfriend for long.

'Good evening, Officer Holmes,' Mycroft smiled. 'Was this your idea or John's?'

Sherlock scowled at him. 'I see you've dressed as an uptight and boring politician. Really, you could have at least tried.'

Mycroft just smiled pleasantly. 'Not all of us have the time to go costume shopping, Sherlock.'

'I'm sure your assistant could have done it, she does everything else for you.' He looked at Mycroft pointedly, leaving little doubt as to what he was suggesting.

'A and I have a professional relationship, nothing more,' Mycroft said stiffly. He didn't add that he didn't care for women on a sexual note. He never had come out and had no plans of discussing his sexuality in front of John Watson.

But Sherlock was smart, and annoying, and said, 'Ah, right, she's a woman; of course. Why don't you hire a male secretary? Much more fun, I'm sure.' Of course Sherlock had guessed his sexuality. And rather than be serious and say he supported it, he went right to humiliation.

Mycroft knew Sherlock wasn't against him being gay. After all, Sherlock and John were publically together now. But still, Sherlock could at least _try _to be understanding. Of course, why Mycroft expected anything other than Sherlock's crass words was simply idiotic.

Mycroft scowled as the door opened and A, who was going by Anthea again, entered. She was dressed in the typical "slutty" nurse outfit; tight fitting white costume that ended way above her knee with a big red cross on her very obvious chest.

John, as a bisexual man, appreciated the costume with a wide-open mouth. Anthea's hair had been curled and fell down to her shoulders. Her lipstick was bright red, her eyes darkly shadowed. Her stockinged legs did look very appealing and ended with high-heeled red shoes.

Though she hadn't wanted to attend the party, she had admitted to having nothing better to do on a Friday night and agreed to accompany her boss on the condition that she be allowed to dress how she want and leave with whom she wanted. Mycroft had accepted her conditions with a smile. Even if Anthea didn't want to be there she'd put 100% effort into dressing up.

Mycroft chuckled at John and Sherlock scowled, going to put an arm around John's waist.

'Good evening Dr Watson, Mr Holmes,' Anthea said without looking up from her BlackBerry.

'Erm... h-hi,' John managed.

Anthea heard the tremor in his voice and smirked as she joined Mycroft in the kitchen. 'Sir, the PM would like to know if you area available for coffee tomorrow at nine am.'

'You know I am, Anthea.'

'Yes, sir, but I thought I would ask.'

Mycroft smiled. 'Unless something comes up, yes, I am available.'

'Very good, sir.'

Another guest had arrived and Mycroft heard his brother groan. He turned slightly to see Sergeant Sally Donovan and William Anderson, two of DI Lestrade's team.

Mycroft knew Sherlock and the two officers didn't get along and couldn't blame his brother's annoyance; Sally Donovan, while a good cop and all around nice woman, was simply wasting her time on Anderson. And her use of "the Freak" to describe Sherlock was nothing but childish.

Anderson was another matter all together. Far too up himself (even Mycroft drew a line when being uptight) and far too unwilling to accept help from anyone. Oh, and an adulterer; Mycroft didn't care for cheaters.

'Why are they here?' Sherlock was hissing.

'I thought we could try to work past all this childish bickering,' John said. 'I'm sorry, Sherlock, but Lestrade's going to murder one of you if you guys don't cut it out. And Lestrade in prison won't help you get cases; that's if you're the one he doesn't murder.'

Sherlock smiled slightly. 'Mycroft would hardly let Lestrade murder me, John.'

John smiled. 'I dunno. They might form a team and kill you together.'

Sherlock chuckled, his good mood suddenly back thanks to John.

Mycroft smiled. DI Lestrade, a man of his own heart. And very handsome, of course, something Mycroft had noticed from surveillance. He hadn't kidnapped the DI yet and wondered if it was time to have the "I worry about him" speech with the officer. He had been aware of Lestrade for a number of years but so far hadn't seen a reason to kidnap him. Lestrade was very open with his kindness and understanding. He took care of Sherlock as much as he could.

Anderson was dressed as some type of dinosaur and Mycroft had to endure the seemingly endless rant about why velocoraptors were better than t-rex's when Anderson ran from Sherlock's deductions that Anderson had had sex in the costume numerous times.

Mycroft was beginning to hate his always polite nature when Donovan came to get a drink and took Anderson with her into the living room. She was dressed as some type of slutty flower, more on the slut side then the flower side. Mycroft wondered why women had to make everything slutty when dressing up.

'Why are you hiding in the kitchen?' John asked when he came to get another beer.

Mycroft had been tapping away on his BlackBerry and leaning against the kitchen counter. He looked up. 'I am not hiding.'

'Oh?' John raised his eyebrows and sipped from his bottle.

'I am merely... enjoying the company of the ice,' Mycroft said.

John chuckled. 'Not all these people are stupid, Mycroft. Anderson, yes, maybe even Donovan. But Sarah's here now and she's smart.'

Mycroft looked over John's shoulder to see a thirty-something woman with brown hair dressed as a (slutty) cat. He rolled his eyes.

'I am quite alright here.'

'It's a party, Mycroft,' John said and shook his head as he left.

Mycroft poured himself a drink from the endless supply of alcohol Sherlock and John had on offer. He finished two drinks before Mrs Hudson and Mike Stamford arrived, pulling a blushing Molly Hooper between them.

Thankfully Molly wasn't a slutty anything. She had come as a lawyer and looked stunning in a suit complete with slip on shoes, her brown hair tied back. John smiled at her and even Sherlock managed to say she looked nice.

Mike was some type of doctor, Mycroft didn't really look too closely, and Mrs Hudson was... Sherlock? She was dressed in one of the consulting detective's expensive suits, complete with bright blue shirt, coat, and scarf.

Sherlock smiled and John roared with laughter.

'I'd like you not to ruin that coat,' Sherlock said, 'it was a gift from my brother.'

John raised his eyebrows and turned to look at Mycroft, who smiled. He had bought Sherlock the coat after he'd finally got clean and stayed that way. A sort of 'thank you' for finally getting healthy. It made him smile to know that Sherlock always wore it and kept it in good condition.

DI Lestrade and DI Dimmock arrived at the same time. Dimmock was dressed as a soldier too and shot John with his black spray-painted water pistol, stating it had been his idea first. Everyone would get a soaking by the end of the night.

It was DI Lestrade that made Mycroft gasp and nearly drop his drink. The man was dressed in tight fitting black jeans, with a black and white studded belt and three chains hanging from his right pocket. He was wearing black Converse Chuck Taylor's on his feet, a _Muse _band shirt and a tight-fitting black jacket. His hair was spiked up and he grinned at John.

'What the bloody hell are you?' the doctor asked.

'Skater,' Lestrade said and gestured to the well-used skateboard beneath his arm. Sherlock snorted. 'I used to skate,' Lestrade huffed, 'now I spend all my time arresting the little sods.'

John laughed and led DI Lestrade into the kitchen for a drink, leaving Dimmock who had slid up close to Anthea and earned a smile from the PA.

Mycroft turned quickly to hide his blush. The man looked... well, stunning was the only word Mycroft could think of. As well as beautiful, gorgeous, handsome, and absolutely fuckable. Probably best not to bring those up in conversation.

'Hello.'

Mycroft cleared his throat and turned to see Lestrade smiling at him. He held out his hand and said, 'Greg Lestrade, Sherlock sometimes freelances for Scotland Yard.'

'Yes, I am aware,' Mycroft said and shook the man's calloused hand. It was soft, and warm, and Mycroft wanted to feel it on his skin, preferably somewhere below his belt. 'I'm Mycroft Holmes.'

Lestrade raised an eyebrow. 'Oh... I take it you're Sherlock's older brother? You don't exactly look alike but I see some similarities.'

Mycroft nodded. 'Yes. There is a ten year age gap.'

'Ah, I'm nine years older than my little sister and brother,' Lestrade said.

Mycroft knew already, of course, he had read all about Lestrade in the man's rather large file. But hearing Lestrade talk about himself was... nice.

'Amy and Martin are twins and my parents spent all my teen years spoiling them rotten. I practically got tossed in the trash.'

Mycroft smiled. Usually people who knew Sherlock sighed and said, "Christ, another one." Or, "Fuck, the world can't handle another Holmes." Only John, and DI Lestrade, seemed to think it was okay that there were two Holmeses.

'Yes, I am aware of the impact younger siblings have on parents, Detective Inspector.'

Another raise of the eyebrows. 'How'd you know I'm a DI?'

Mycroft blushed and John saved him an explanation. 'He knows everything, Greg. British Government.'

'Oh?'

'I occupy a minor role,' Mycroft said and John snorted.

'He kidnapped me.'

Lestrade glanced at Mycroft. 'Kidnapping is illegal.'

'Well, seeing as how John is neither a kid nor still napped, than it is safe to say that he was okay with the arrangement.'

John rolled his eyes and Lestrade chuckled. He handed the DI a beer and disappeared back into the growing crowd, now filled with people Mycroft didn't know.

'I wasn't aware Sherlock knew this many people,' Mycroft said.

Lestrade nodded, sipping his beer. He leaned against the counter opposite Mycroft and didn't look like he was going to move.

'I don't think he knows many of them. I think they're all John's friends; some army buddies, some of his sister's friends.'

'Ah, yes, Harriet,' Mycroft said. 'I am curious as to her views on John's sudden change in sexuality.'

Lestrade chuckled. 'Do you always talk like that?'

'Talk like what?'

'Like... I dunno, a politician.'

'I am a politician.'

Lestrade laughed again. 'Yes, right. But this _is _a costume party.'

Mycroft smiled. 'The fact that I came is effort enough without trying to think of a costume. Sherlock and I do not get along very well.'

Lestrade was privy to firsthand knowledge of this when Sherlock walked into the kitchen.

'Chatting Lestrade up?' Sherlock muttered.

'We are merely talking, Sherlock, no need to get jealous.'

Sherlock glared at his brother. 'Jealous? Why would I be jealous?'

'Maybe because I think you're brother's better looking than you?' Lestrade offered. Mycroft blushed and Sherlock scowled.

'Why are you taking his side?' he demanded.

'I'm just offering some comments,' Lestrade shrugged and downed the last of his beer. He smiled and grabbed another one.

Sherlock snorted and Mycroft chuckled. He stormed back into the party, shouting about politicians and DI's ganging up on him.

'Very good, Detective Inspector.'

'Please, call me Greg.'

'Is that short for Gregory?' Mycroft asked and Lestrade nodded. 'Than I shall call you Gregory. Feel free to call me Mycroft.'

'Did your parents hate you or something?' Greg asked as he opened another beer. 'I mean, I like your name, and Sherlock's, they're... different, like you. But seriously, geniuses with no sense of social niceties and weird names, your parents were just begging for you to be bullied.'

'They didn't think that far ahead,' Mycroft said. 'And I have charm; I know how to act in a social setting.'

'Yeah, I can see that,' Greg smiled and shifted closer to Mycroft. Mycroft downed his drink quickly. 'But Sherlock is...'

'Rude?' Mycroft ventured and Greg smiled. 'Abrasive, crass, lacks any ability to understand social norms?'

'Yeah, but also brilliant, good-looking, dangerous, and strong.'

'Hmm,' Mycroft murmured. 'I've never heard anyone describe my brother like that.'

'I'm sure if you asked Dr Watson he'd tell you the same,' Greg said and then added, 'with fantastic lover added on the end.'

Mycroft snorted into his drink and Greg chuckled.

'Here, let me make you another one.'

Mycroft smiled. 'Thank you, Gregory.'

-oOo-

Two hours later, Mycroft and Greg were still chatting. They'd pulled out two chairs and were leaning in close, discussing the merits of the new Doctor Who versus the old one.

'I like the effects in the new one,' Greg said, 'but I miss the old Dalek's not being able to climb anything. Seriously, the Doctor could have run up a set of stairs and escaped.'

Mycroft giggled, thoroughly enjoying himself. He'd had four more drinks and was feeling... relaxed. 'Yes, but now they can fly so it's much harder to escape. I myself would just tip them over, or jump on their backs.'

Greg chuckled and opened another beer, his sixth if Mycroft remembered correctly. But the DI was no light weight and was barely tipsy. 'Who's your favourite Doctor?'

'David Tennant,' Mycroft admitted. 'He was perfect for the role; smart, good-looking, brilliant, and absolutely perfect at delivering those crazy speeches.'

Greg raised an eyebrow. 'Good looking, huh?'

Mycroft felt heat colour his cheeks and cleared his throat. 'Yes, well... those suits leave little to the imagination. And I've met the man; he's much better looking in person and tends to let his hair go in that crazy fashion.'

Greg grinned. 'David Tennant's my favourite too. He _does_ have fantastic hair.' Mycroft glanced at him. 'Oh, I'm gay, in case that wasn't obvious.'

'I... I see,' Mycroft swallowed. He had been spending a great deal of the past two and a bit hours checking the DI out. But he had no idea if Greg was gay, straight, bisexual, or even asexual. Now that he did he found himself blushing, wondering if the DI had realised that Mycroft was checking him out.

'What about you, Mycroft?' Greg asked and raised an eyebrow.

'Oh,' Mycroft said and cleared his throat. 'Erm... I... I'm gay.'

It was the first time he'd actually admitted it. He wasn't inexperienced with sex but had never needed to say he was gay when making out with some man in a club or alley. So saying it out loud was very new to Mycroft and oddly refreshing.

'Good,' Greg said.

'Good?' Mycroft asked.

Greg leaned forward and rested a hand on Mycroft's thigh. 'Good,' he breathed, softly, and Mycroft felt his face burn red and his cock twitch.

Greg pulled back grinning and stood.

'Where are you going?' Mycroft asked.

'Bathroom,' Greg said, smiling at the upset tone beneath Mycroft's words. 'Then outside for a smoke. Would you like to accompany me outside?'

Mycroft swallowed and nodded. Greg smirked and disappeared.

'Lestrade?' John asked as he entered, seeing the way Mycroft stared after the detective.

'Erm... he's a very... interesting man,' Mycroft tried.

'And hot,' John chuckled. 'You two have been in here almost three hours, ignoring everybody else.'

'I apologise, Dr Watson,' Mycroft said, 'I mean, John.'

John smiled. 'Forget it. You two look good together.'

'Really?' Mycroft asked, hopeful that Lestrade's flirting wasn't just in his head.

'Yeah,' John said, 'and it looks like he fancies you.' He smiled again, grabbed a beer, and left Mycroft blushing in the kitchen.

-oOo-

They stepped into the cool night air and Greg pulled a packet of cigarettes from his very tight jeans. Mycroft couldn't help but wonder just how the DI had got into them... and how hard they'd be to get out of.

He gulped and accepted the cigarette Greg had offered him. He didn't light it at first, just enjoyed the cool night air and the man who was standing next to him. Suddenly a flame leapt into life in front of him and he smiled, leaning forward to light the tip of his cigarette.

Mycroft drew back on the filter and took it between two slender fingers as he breathed out. It was cold enough that their breath frosted before them and now smoke was added, the deep grey twirling up into the night.

'Can you blow smoke rings?' Mycroft asked suddenly. 'I've never been able to.'

Lestrade smiled and nodded. He drew back on his cigarette and proceeded to draw a circle in the air with his head, the smoke trailing out and not actually drawing anything.

Mycroft giggled stupidly and Greg smiled. 'I always do that at parties. Has people wetting their pants.'

'I meant... actual... smoke rings,' Mycroft managed to say in-between fits of laughter.

Greg nodded again and drew back another lung full of smoke. He circled his lips and moved the bottom of his jaw so the smoke shot out in tight little circles. Mycroft smiled and watched as he blew the rest of the smoke out.

'How do you do it?' he asked.

'Make an O with your lips,' Greg said and showed him. 'And then get a lung full of smoke.' Mycroft did. 'Blow it out and use your lips and bottom jaw to make circles.'

Mycroft tried and failed but Greg was a patient teacher. He talked Mycroft threw it a few more times before the man was blowing smoke rings, not as tight as Greg's, but smoke rings nonetheless.

Mycroft beamed and said, 'I did it,' like a little kid who'd managed to write his own name for the first time.

Greg grinned and lit another smoke before stepping onto the skateboard he'd brought with him. He chucked Mycroft the packet and Mycroft took a smoke out, lighting it and stuffing the lighter and packet into his jacket.

'Er, careful,' Mycroft said as Greg began stuffing around on the board. Greg had been drinking and had said himself it had been years since he'd actually skated.

'I'm fine,' Greg said and flipped the board around.

Mycroft watched, mesmerised, as Greg's feet slipped up and down the board.

'What was that?' Mycroft asked.

'An Ollie, than a kick flip, than a manual,' Greg said, flipping the board back into his hands. 'I used to be really good but I'm nearly forty-seven so I'd rather not smash my head open.'

Mycroft smiled. 'I never did any sports, our mother wouldn't allow us.'

'Really? I played footy and rugby and basketball, skated and rode my bike.'

'I played piano,' Mycroft said, 'and Sherlock the violin. Mummy never allowed us to do anything too dangerous. I never learned how to ride a bike; my father wouldn't have been able to teach us even if Mummy had let him.'

'I was danger kid,' Greg grinned. 'Did everything dangerous I could. Broke my arm on a skateboard, my leg and wrist on a bike. Broke my nose in footy and my ankle in rugby.'

'Good lord, didn't you ever protect yourself?' Mycroft asked.

Greg chuckled. 'Nope. Jumped off the roof of my house at ten, broke four fingers and fractured three ribs. As soon as they healed I did it again and broke my other wrist. Probably why I became a cop; the danger.'

'I've only ever broken a few ribs and my leg,' Mycroft mused.

'When? I mean, you don't look the sort to do anything very... physical.'

Mycroft smiled at the red flush that crept up Greg's face. 'A conference in Russia went... wrong,' Mycroft admitted. 'Their displeasure at my plan was shown with their fists.'

'Don't you have body guards or something?' Greg asked.

'I do, but the man wanted to speak to me alone.'

'Please tell me you got some good hits in.'

'Oh, yes,' Mycroft grinned. 'Broke his arm and nose, dislocated his shoulder and knocked him out cold. I was taken by surprise, you see.'

Greg giggled and stepped back onto his board. He nearly fell and Mycroft had to grab him, sliding his arms under Greg's. 'I think I've had a bit too much to drink,' Greg said into Mycroft's ear.

Mycroft burned red and helped the DI off the board.

'You're turn.'

'I... what?'

Greg grinned. 'On the board, Mr Politician.'

'Er, no, I don't think so.'

But Greg wasn't taking no for an answer. He dragged Mycroft onto the board and held his waist, Mycroft's hands on his shoulders.

'Now, I'm going to push you slowly, alright?'

Mycroft nodded and yelped when the board started moving. He gripped Greg's shoulders tightly as Greg walked alongside him for a minute. The board stopped and Mycroft stepped off it.

'Most enjoyable,' he managed, 'but not really my thing.'

'Mm,' Greg said.

Mycroft was suddenly aware that his hands were still on Greg's shoulders. Greg saw, too, and his hands tightened on Mycroft's waist.

Suddenly Greg was leaning up and Mycroft's breath caught in his throat as Greg pressed his lips against Mycroft's. Mycroft groaned softly and kissed him back, a hand rising to cup Greg's cheek.

Greg pushed himself into Mycroft and his tongue darted along Mycroft's bottom lip before poking, begging for entrance. Mycroft opened his mouth to Greg and the DI plunged his tongue in, murmuring his satisfaction.

His hands grabbed at Mycroft's shirt beneath his jacket and pulled it from his trousers. Warm hands found equally warm skin and Mycroft shivered as Greg's calloused fingers trailed along his skin.

Mycroft's hands fell to Greg's waist and one reached to touch the arse he'd been admiring all night. He could feel everything through the very tight denim and slipped the fingers of his other hand in, feeling warm skin.

But he couldn't get any further; the denim was far too tight, and he growled in annoyance.

Greg chuckled and pulled back so they could breath, smiling up at Mycroft.

'I don't usually shag people I've just met but I'd very much like you to take these jeans off me.'

Mycroft blushed and swallowed, running his hands along the top of Greg's jeans. 'I'd enjoy that, Detective.'

Greg grinned and leaned up to kiss Mycroft again.

The door of 221 opened and they stepped apart, Greg tripping on his skateboard. Mycroft reached out quickly and grabbed him, forcing them together so that they were in a more compromising position than before; hips together, mouths millimetres from each other, Greg's hands around Mycroft's neck and Mycroft's gripping the DI's waist.

'Ah, we've already lost the first couple,' Harry Watson chuckled. She was sober, now, with short brown-blonde hair and dark brown eyes. She had her arm around the waist of a small blonde woman, who was smiling.

'Erm, sorry,' Greg breathed and stepped back from Mycroft, grabbing his skateboard.

'Nah, keep snogging, don't mind us,' Harry grinned and took the arm of her partner, Clara. 'John, lovely seeing you again, and it was good to meet you, Sherlock.'

'A pleasure,' Sherlock smiled and shook Harry's hand. Harry and Clara bid farewell and walked down the street, cuddling into each other. Sherlock turned to Mycroft and Greg. 'My brother, really?'

'He likes Doctor Who, looks brilliant in a suit, and doesn't mind a bit of Muse and Green Day,' Greg said and grabbed Mycroft's right hand. He linked their fingers and grinned, 'What was I supposed to do?'

'Snog him in the street, obviously,' Sherlock glared. He stormed back inside and John chuckled.

'Enjoying the party?' John asked, grinning.

'Very much,' Mycroft said.

'Are you two leaving?' John asked as they approached.

'Not yet,' Greg smiled and kissed Mycroft quickly before dragging him back inside. 'But defiantly later.'

-oOo-

The party was dying down by one and Mycroft had an early meeting. But he considered pushing it back and would if he could only find Anthea. She had disappeared after being caught snogging DI Dimmock in the kitchen.

Deciding to call her later, Mycroft went searching for Greg, hoping the man would invite him back to his flat. There was something about Greg; he was smart, charming, funny, and unbelievably sexy.

Plus he seemed to enjoy spending time with Mycroft. Mycroft very much wanted to get into the man's pants and it wasn't just alcohol making him feel that way. He... he found that he liked the man and wanted... he wanted a relationship.

He just hoped Greg felt the same way and didn't just want a one night stand.

Mycroft couldn't find the DI anywhere and decided to use the bathroom before continuing his search.

The door was unlocked and Greg jumped, turning around.

'Gregory?' Mycroft asked. He looked at Greg's hands and realised he was holding a condom and unopened bottle of lube. Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

'I... er... um...' Greg mumbled and cleared his throat. 'I... was gonna invite you to mine but I... I don't have... anything and I... er... didn't want to have to stop somewhere.' He cleared his throat again and burned red.

Mycroft was silent for a second before stepping forward. He shoved the entire condom box into his jacket pocket and grabbed the lube. He slipped it into the back pocket of Greg's jeans and kissed the DI hotly, passionately, earning a soft groan.

'Let's go,' Mycroft said.

Greg nodded and they stumbled out of the bathroom and straight into Sherlock and John.

'What are you two doing in the bathroom?' Sherlock demanded.

'Lovely party, brother, John,' Mycroft smiled, 'but we were just leaving. May we have our coats?'

John went to get them and Sherlock continued to eye the pair.

'What?' Greg asked, trying not to giggle. He knew the bottle of lube was sticking out his pocket and his jacket barely came to his waist. Sherlock would see it as soon as Greg's back was turned.

John appeared and Mycroft tugged his coat on, turning to help Greg. Greg tucked his skateboard under his arm and smiled.

'Bye,' John said and Mycroft and Greg nodded.

They managed to get to the door before Sherlock spotted the lone condom Greg had dropped on the sink. He opened the top draw and found the spare lube bottle gone.

'MYCROFT!' Sherlock shouted and bounded towards them.

Mycroft slammed the door shut and shouted, 'Run!'

They managed to get outside and pull themselves into Mycroft's car. Greg flicked the lock and Sherlock pounded his hand on the window.

'THAT'S OUR LAST BOTTLE!' he shouted.

Greg wound down the window just slightly and said, 'Sorry, what was that?'

'You son of a–' Sherlock began before the car peeled into traffic.

Mycroft and Greg giggled like a pair of school girls and Greg pulled himself onto Mycroft, dropping his skateboard onto the floor.

'That was brilliant,' he breathed and kissed Mycroft softly.

Mycroft moaned and said, 'You're gorgeous.'

'It's just the jeans,' Greg laughed and pushed his crotch against Mycroft's. The jeans were very tight and Mycroft could feel Greg straining through the denim. He moaned again and moved his hands to grip the DI's arse.

'I'm not sure I'll be able to wait,' Mycroft said into Greg's mouth.

'Patience is a virtue.'

'Sometimes it's just plain annoying.'

-oOo-

Mycroft hadn't given his driver Greg's address so they ended up at Mycroft's flat. Mycroft didn't usually invite people over but for some reason didn't mind letting Greg in. Greg had all of three seconds to admire the place before Mycroft was on him, pushing Greg towards his bedroom.

'Lovely... place... Mycroft,' Greg managed to say between kisses.

'Thank you,' Mycroft moaned and they both fell onto the bed. Mycroft found himself straddling Greg and leaned down to pull the man's jacket off. He threw it over his shoulder

He pulled Greg's shirt clear and that went on the floor too as Mycroft moved to lick his way across Greg's chest. Greg groaned and his fingers trailed through Mycroft's hair, pulling him closer.

Mycroft's teeth brushed along Greg's nipples and he gasped, eyes closed. He ran a hand along Mycroft's trousers and once again went up Mycroft's shirt. His hand found a thin stomach and hair before his fingers trailed across the soft skin of the politician's back.

'Shirt, off,' Greg demanded.

Mycroft smiled and leaned back and slipped out of his coat and jacket. He let Greg pull of his shirt, chuckling as a few buttons were torn free in Greg's haste.

Greg's lips found Mycroft's pale skin and Mycroft shivered. It was his turn to run his fingers through Greg's hair and watch, enjoying the moments when Greg's tongue darted out to taste his skin.

'Pants,' Greg said and pushed Mycroft back.

Mycroft slid his shoes and socks off before slipping from his pants and underwear. Normally he would fold everything neatly on the chair in the corner but one look at a completely naked DI Lestrade pushed all the need for tidiness from his mind.

He suddenly found Greg's naked feet being pushed into his stomach. He smiled as Greg unzipped his jeans and Mycroft grabbed the ends, trying to pull them free. It was near impossible and Mycroft groaned.

'How did you get the damn things on?'

'Took me a while,' Greg smiled and pulled them further down. 'I almost gave up but I look fucking sexy in them.'

'I won't argue that,' Mycroft growled and wrestled with the denim. Greg giggled.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, Mycroft got the jeans free and dropped them, grinning. Greg shimmied out of his underwear and sat back, waiting.

Mycroft pushed himself against Greg and they fell onto the bed, pulling each other closer and kissing hotly. Greg nibbled at Mycroft's jaw and Mycroft groaned, running his hands down to Greg's arse and gripping his buttocks.

Mycroft was up suddenly and grabbing the condom box and lube. Apparently he was done playing and Greg grinned, leaning back and spreading his legs to show that he wanted Mycroft to take him.

Mycroft opened the box and pulled a condom out. He dropped it to the bed and squeezed lube onto his fingers. He dropped the bottle too and shuffled closer to rub his fingers along Greg's entrance.

'Mm,' the DI moaned.

Mycroft smiled and pushed a finger in slowly, enjoying the gasp Greg gave. He shivered as Mycroft began pulling his finger out, slowly, before pushing it back in. He continued for a few seconds before adding another finger, then another, and curling them to brush against Greg's prostate.

'Fuck!' the DI shouted and pushed himself down, Mycroft's fingers sliding deeper inside. Mycroft did it again ant Greg reached out to grab his hand. 'Fuck me, now!'

Mycroft laughed and reached for the condom, his fingers sliding from Greg and making the police officer groan. Mycroft tore the condom free and rolled it onto his erection. He added a great deal of lube and moved between Greg's legs. He pulled the DI's legs over his shoulders and pushed his cock in slowly.

Greg gasped as Mycroft slid all the way in. He was very tight and hot, his muscles contracting as they grew accustomed to Mycroft's cock.

'Mm... fuck...' Greg moaned and looked at Mycroft, who had stopped. 'Waiting for an invitation?'

Mycroft grinned and leaned forward to kiss Greg so he slid out a little. He then pulled back further before pushing back in, falling into a slow rhythm.

'Jesus...' Greg groaned. 'Fucking... so... good.'

Mycroft couldn't help but grunt in agreement. Greg was hot, and tight, and his hands were squeezing into fists behind his head. He groaned and licked his lips before biting them.

Mycroft's thrusts became harder and Greg groaned louder, shouting, 'Fuck!' Suddenly Mycroft found himself being pushed back and Greg was climbing atop him. He smiled as Greg kissed him before nimble fingers found his cock and Greg pushed him back in. He slid all the way down and moaned, gripping Mycroft's waist tighter with his thighs.

'Shit,' Mycroft moaned and gripped Greg's waist. His nails bit into the DI's flesh but he couldn't stop. He pulled Greg down faster and Greg complied by squeezing his arse around Mycroft's cock. Mycroft reached up and held his fingers around Greg's cock, Greg's movements meaning Mycroft barely had to do anything.

'Mycroft,' he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut as the orgasm built bigger and bigger and bigger...

He came with a groan, spurting all over his stomach, hand, Mycroft's hand, and Mycroft's chest. He continued to move and moan, biting his lips and licking them. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed in bliss as he felt Mycroft climax beneath him.

The orgasm shot through Mycroft and he pushed his arse off the bed, shouting as his body shuddered. He flopped back down and Greg toppled off him, laughing and lifting his legs over Mycroft.

They both went still, enjoying the aftermath of sex. Mycroft felt Greg shift beside him and suddenly the DI had an arm draped over him. He smiled and kissed Mycroft softly, his head flopping onto Mycroft's arm.

'That was... fantastic,' Mycroft said.

'Mm,' Greg agreed. 'I actually didn't think I'd get lucky at the party considering I know most people there.'

'Yes, I just went to annoy Sherlock,' Mycroft admitted. 'I didn't think I'd meet anybody interesting.'

'I'm glad you think I'm interesting,' Greg smiled.

Mycroft chuckled. 'You are the most interesting man I have ever met, Gregory. Believe me when I say that.'

'Hmm,' Greg said and trailed a finger along Mycroft's chest. 'I suppose I can accept it as truth if...'

'If?' Mycroft said when Greg trailed off.

'If I can fuck you,' Greg said.

Mycroft grinned. 'That sounds acceptable, DI Lestrade. But please do allow an old man to catch his breath.'

Greg laughed and said, 'You hardly look old.'

'I'm forty-three,' Mycroft said.

'Forty-six, I win,' Greg giggled.

Mycroft shook his head and drew an arm around Greg, pulling him closer.

'It really was fantastic,' he said.

'I agree,' Greg said. 'Round two after a nap.' He yawned and closed his eyes.

Mycroft chuckled and kissed him softly.

-oOo-

Mycroft awoke to somebody touching him. He peeled his eyes open and found it was very early, probably around four am. Greg was sitting up beside him, leaning back on one hand. His other hand was stroking at Mycroft's thighs, his stomach, circling around Mycroft's hardening cock.

'Hello.'

Greg smiled and didn't look at him. 'Good morning, Mr Holmes.'

'Is this how you always wake people up?' Mycroft asked and shivered as Greg's warm fingers circled closer to his cock. 'I could get used to it.'

Greg chuckled. 'You'd better. I don't plan on going anywhere.'

They were both silent then, Greg continuing to get closer and closer to Mycroft's cock and Mycroft stroking the DI's arm. Neither said what was on their mind; that they didn't want this to be a onetime thing.

They'd both had fun but wanted more. Greg wanted to learn all there was about Mycroft and Mycroft wanted to learn all there was about Greg. The two wanted to date, and wake up beside each other, and fuck each other all night long.

Greg leaned down and licked at the head of Mycroft's cock. Mycroft groaned and thrust up, forcing his shaft deeper into Greg's mouth. Greg didn't seem to mind and moved so he could take Mycroft more, bending over the politician. One hand gripped the base of Mycroft's cock and the other ran along his thighs, his stomach, his balls.

'Gregory,' Mycroft sighed and ran one hand through the DI's greying hair. Greg smiled and looked up with his dark brown eyes as he licked at Mycroft. 'Mm,' Mycroft moaned and closed his eyes.

Greg's hand moved to touch his own cock and he stroked slowly, enjoying the feel of Mycroft's hard shaft in his mouth. Suddenly he was being pushed away and Mycroft grabbed his wrists, securing them against the headboard.

'Ah ah,' Mycroft smiled and reached to touch Greg's cock. 'Only I can do that.'

Greg grinned and watched as Mycroft kissed at his collarbone, his nipples, his belly button, getting lower and lower. He licked along Greg's hard cock and Greg groaned. Mycroft continued to tease him and Greg pulled against his firm hand, the one that had his wrists against the wooden headboard.

'Mycroft, stop being a prat,' he groaned.

Mycroft chuckled and continued to tease, running a soft finger along Greg's head.

'Please,' Greg begged.

The politician licked softly at Greg's cock, running his lips down the shaft and nibbling at his balls.

'_Please_,' Greg moaned and bucked up.

Finally Mycroft took him completely, shoving Greg's cock all the way into his mouth. Greg groaned and bucked into him, which Mycroft didn't seem to mind. One hand gripped Greg's balls as he sucked back hard, his teeth running along Greg's shaft.

Greg was panting now and looked down to watch Mycroft take him completely again, his lips expanding to allow Greg entry to his mouth.

'Mycroft, stop, I'm going to come,' Greg groaned.

Mycroft pulled back and let Greg's hands go. Greg leaned over and grabbed a condom from the box on the bedside table. He ripped the foil open and rolled the rubber onto his cock.

Mycroft shifted himself atop Greg and smiled, leaning up kiss him.

'Fucking tease,' Greg growled as Mycroft shifted up and down, Greg's cock rubbing between his cheeks.

'Such a foul mouth,' Mycroft tutted and took Greg's lips in his own, kissing him softly, lightly.

'You're one to talk,' Greg responded as Mycroft's tongue dipped into his wet mouth. 'Did you forget what you were just doing to me?'

Mycroft moved and reached for Greg's cock. He grabbed it and lowered himself, Greg's cock pushing into him.

'Fuck,' Greg groaned as he was gripped by Mycroft' heat, his tightness.

Mycroft shivered above him and buried his face in Greg's neck.

'No preparation?' Greg asked, whispering the words as he nipped at Mycroft's ear.

Mycroft answered by pulling himself up and falling back down. Greg groaned and suddenly found his wrists forced back together and above his head. Mycroft took over, setting the pace and depth to which Greg fucked him. Greg could do nothing but watch as Mycroft's grip tightened on his hands. The politician reached for his own cock and stroked in time as Greg pushed himself up, burying his cock deeply in Mycroft Holmes.

They continued panting and cussing, catching each other's eyes every few minutes. Mycroft leaned forward to press himself against Greg's lips and they kissed hard, passionately, as Greg fucked Mycroft.

Suddenly Mycroft let him go and pulled back. Greg was confused and groaned until Mycroft fell to his hands and knees. He smiled shyly back at Greg.

'Please?'

Greg grinned and moved to grip Mycroft's thighs. He pushed his cock in and groaned, starting to thrust softly and building back up to their previous pace.

Mycroft moaned and dipped his head, eyes shut and face red as Greg pounded into him.

'Fuck me,' Mycroft moaned.

'I am!' Greg shot back and heard Mycroft laugh. Suddenly Mycroft fell forward, his arse in the air and his forehead pressed into the bed. He was resting on his forearms now and Greg adjusted his thrusting, rolling his hips to hit Mycroft's prostate.

Mycroft swore loudly and pushed himself back, his fingers finding his cock and pulling. Greg tightened his grip on Mycroft's thighs and moved one hand to squeeze one cheek, hearing Mycroft groan beneath him.

This time Mycroft came first, the pounding and tugging and squeezing too much for his cock to bear. He shot come all over himself and the bed as he continued to push back and moan. Greg came in him, his pounding getting harder as he milked the climax for everything it was worth.

They both slowed, panting and trying to calm their bodies down. Greg pulled out of Mycroft and peeled the condom off as Mycroft groggily slid from the bed. He wobbled to the en-suite bathroom and came back with a wet towel. He threw it to Greg and disappeared once more, returning with a fresh duvet.

Greg climbed off the bed as he cleaned himself up, Mycroft pulling the stained blanket off the mattress. He left it in a lump on the floor and smiled as Greg leaned forward to wipe at him with the warm towel. He dropped it and stood to kiss Mycroft softly, warmly.

'Bed?' he asked.

Mycroft nodded and Greg dragged him into bed. They pulled the duvet over each other and Greg sighed in content, burying his head in Mycroft's chest.

'Wonderful,' he said.

'I agree,' Mycroft murmured and his eyes drifted shut. He smiled when he heard Greg snoring softly beside him.

-oOo-

This time it was a phone call that woke them both. Greg groaned and muttered about death to the planet as Mycroft slid off the bed and grabbed his jacket. He found his BlackBerry and answered with a yawned, 'Hello?'

'_Sir, it's eight-thirty,_' Anthea said and Mycroft was pleased to hear she sounded as tired as him. '_I was thinking that perhaps I could push the meeting with the PM back to midday. You can enjoy lunch with Gregory._'

Though Anthea had left the party before Mycroft and Greg, she still knew what had happened to her boss.

He grinned and said, 'That sounds lovely, Anthea.'

'_It's Ariadne today, sir_.'

Mycroft chuckled. 'Very well. Say hello to DI Dimmock for me, Ariadne.'

He could imagine her blushing. '_Very well, sir., I will see you at your flat at eleven-thirty_'

She hung up and Mycroft dropped his phone onto the bedside table. He turned to lay on his back and Greg swung an arm around his stomach, smiling as he kissed Mycroft softly.

'Fantastic night.'

'I agree,' Mycroft grinned.

Greg went silent then, fiddling with the duvet.

'Is something wrong?' Mycroft asked.

'Well...' Greg said softly and cleared his throat. 'I was wondering if you'd like to... have dinner... sometime.'

Mycroft watched him carefully before saying, 'A date?'

Greg nodded and looked down, hoping he hadn't just embarrassed himself beyond belief. 'I enjoyed last night and don't want it to be... just... you know, a one night thing.' He sighed. 'If you don't I understand, I just thought I'd–'

He was silenced by a hot kiss, Mycroft pulling himself atop the DI. 'I'd very much like that, Greg,' he said and grinned.

Greg smiled back and leaned up to kiss Mycroft.

'We're going to run out of condoms at this rate,' Mycroft mused.

Greg chuckled. 'We'll buy some more. I can see us doing this a lot in the future.'

Mycroft grinned and leaned back to run his hands along Greg's chest. Greg shivered beneath him.

'You have no idea, Detective Inspector. Absolutely no idea. I'm free until midday, would you like to have breakfast?'

'I'd prefer you stay where you are,' Greg chuckled.

Mycroft smiled and leaned down to kiss Greg. A few minutes later he reached once more for the condom box and bottle of lube.

Later Mycroft would make a mental note to go to every single party John and Sherlock threw in the future... as long as Gregory Lestrade accompanied him.

The latter would agree each and every time for many years to come.

* * *

><p>{THE END}<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's note: Another Mystrade, just came to me when I imagined Rupert Graves wearing skinny black jeans. You can see it, right? SEXY!<strong>_

_**I promise to put up more 'Colours' and 'Impacts' as soon as I write them. Now that they actually have an audience its getting difficult. But I shall prevail! Hopefully.**_

_**Oh, and I know its called 'Fancy Dress' and its actually a costume party, but calling it 'Sherlock: Costume Party' didn't sound as good... or does it sound better? Too late now. And Mycroft always dresses fancy... and tight jeans would make me fancy Lestrade any day.**_

_**I live to entertain.**_

_**And, most importantly,**_

_**{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}**_


End file.
